


"You Wouldn't believe me."

by HiAjay



Series: A Packless Werewolf [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 20:48:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiAjay/pseuds/HiAjay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles was speechless, for once. He was currently sitting in his dining room staring straight into the most beautiful pale hazel eyes he’s seen since Dean Winchester’s amazing close up for that perfect tear before everything went to shit.</p>
<p>OR</p>
<p>Stiles meets a hurt and bleeding Derek on his way home and decides it's a good idea to help him out. Not realizing that he'd end up in some deep fluffy stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"You Wouldn't believe me."

Stiles was speechless, for once. He was currently sitting in his dining room staring straight into _the_ most beautiful pale hazel eyes he’s seen since Dean Winchester’s amazing close up for that perfect tear before everything went to shit. Derek, Derek sat in front of him, his right arm in Stiles’ hand; his left ghosting his cheek.

 

Derek was leaning dangerously close to Stiles. Almost forgetting that he, himself had to tend to the werewolves’ wounds. He was mesmerized and didn’t realize he was leaning in closer to Derek.

 

Derek’s hand was a gentle firmness against his cheek. It was comfortable, and stable, more than Stiles has ever had in his life.

 

“Derek,” Stiles’ eyes flashed to Derek’s lips then back up to his eyes. “We, I can’t.” But Stiles knew he didn’t mean it. He at least tried to stop whatever it was that was going to happen. He can be given credit for trying, right?

 

Their noses brushed at the tip, Stiles could feel Derek’s warm whiskey coated breath on his lips. “I need to, uh, stitch you up.” Stiles eyes threatened to drift shut, he licked his lips absentmindedly.

 

Derek’s eyes searched Stiles’ face, his eyes not completely open but enough to send chills all across his skin when he looked into them. This was bad. Stiles knew this was really bad.

 

_(Three weeks elder)_

“Oh please,” Stiles said with sheer conviction “You couldn’t even if you tried.” Stiles laughed. Stiles was walking out of a small diner a few blocks away from his home, Scott, his best friend at his side. “You would never know, now would you?”

 

Stiles looked at his best friend with a corked eyebrow, “Oh please Baby, tell me more,” Stiles said teasingly. Scott shoulder bumped him “Leaving you on the ropes it what I do best, My _Darling._ ” Scott joked. Stiles was glad he had Scott tonight, since it had been a really shitty week, he was glad that his Friday wasn’t ruined.

 

Not by his work, not by his obsessive ex-boyfriend, and not by his sleepless nights. Stiles was enjoy Scott’s company. That is, until Scott’s phone started to ring.

 

“It’s Al.” Scott says as he stares down at his phone. Stiles sighs “Go on. She’ll need you for something, I’m sure.”

 

“Thanks Man. I’ll text you later.” Scott ran off to his car. Stiles cuddled himself in his jacket and scarf, and headed in the opposite direction.

 

Don’t get Stiles wrong, he loved Allison like a sister. He really did, she was a great person and she hardly ever let anyone down. She was _awesome._ What Stiles didn’t like was her constant stealing of _Bro-time._ Stiles could live without that, Scott didn’t seem to notice.

 

But what was his goofy friend going to notice when he had a pair of breast waiting for him at his apartment.

 

Stiles sighed, his warm breath creating a cloud of fog. It was rather cold outside, it had been for the last month. Winter wasn’t playing games this year, Stiles thought as he walked. Stiles watched the ground as he walked slowly back to his apartment.

 

Stiles was going to make a turn when he noticed something. A hand, hm, this could be a bad idea, Stiles thought.

 

_But when have I ever shied away from danger?_ Stiles walked up to said hand and bent down. A figure of a man, “Oh god,” Stiles could make out the dark shinny liquid that coated the man’s torn shirt. “Hey, Buddy, Man, Dude. I need you to open your eyes.” Stiles says as he inches closer, the man’s eyes are shut, but he’s breathing. Stiles reaches out his hands and places them on stubbly cheeks.

 

Stiles lifts his face up, “Hey!” He gives on good smack to the man’s cheek, “I need you to open your eyes!”

 

The man’s eyes slowly open, gently searching Stiles’ face. The man looked _exhausted_ , Stiles smiled as the guy finally meet his eyes. “Hey there, Big guy. Alright, c’mon. On your feet.” Stiles throws the guys’ arm over his shoulders and helps him up. But he’s like a new born horse. The guy stumbles a bit, trying to find his feet.

 

“Alright, alright. Take it slow, Big guy. You look like you’ve been through hell.” Stiles says, finally the guy’s got his legs, “There are your legs. Alright let’s go.” Stiles starts walking slow, sure to watch the man he is holding up.

 

\--

 

It was difficult, but Stiles got the stranger to his apartment. Stiles was currently in his kitchen, he’s kept his lights off, not wanting to hurt Stranger’s eyes. Stiles gather warm water in a bright orange bowl and a wash cloth, he then headed to the living room.

 

Stranger was sitting on his couch like the dead, Stiles had to stop the laugh from escaping. Stiles sat the bowl down on his coffee table then he sat next to it. Stranger looked at him with a warning, a glare almost. There was a growl that rumbled from his chest.

 

Stiles sat up straight and raised a serious brow, “I saved your ass. Don’t you growl at me.” Stiles says with meaning. Stranger’s eyes falter in there glare and turn into a scowl. Stiles gives a quick nod then goes for Stranger’s shirt. He lets out another growl, “This is going to happen on way or another, big buy. I will clean your wound and save your ass, or you can sit here and die from whatever supernatural being attacked you.”

 

Stranger’s tense body loosened and Stiles gave another nod. “That’s what I thought.” Stiles tears the already torn shirt down the middle, exposing the several small impressions that covered Stranger’s chest and abs.

 

Stiles did _not_ take a moment to admire said abs. He _Didn’t._ Stiles strained the wash cloth over the bowl then started his work.

 

It didn’t take long, his wounds were shallow and the cold weather made sure he couldn’t bleed out. Stiles was pulling blankets out from his linen closet when he heard fumbling feet. Stiles hurried back with blanket in hand, to see Stranger standing up from the couch.

 

“Hey, didn’t I tell you, you shouldn’t be moving? I mean if you want to get yourself killed that’s fine, but right now, I’m the one watching you, so-” A growl stopped Stiles chatter.

 

Stranger took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. Stiles gave him a black tee-shirt to wear along with some plaid Pj bottoms. Stiles sighed and rolled his eyes, “Whatever, Big guy. The kitchen is always stocked with food, water and juice if you want anything. You know where the bathroom is, and there’s an extra bedroom if you want to sleep there.”

 

Stiles said as he walked into the guest bedroom,  it was the first door in the hallway, while his was the last at the end of the hall. Stiles set sheets and comforters on the bed, then place the extra ones on the side, just in case.

 

Stiles walked out “G’night.” There was a warm soft growl that Stiles took as an _Okay-I-won’t-kill-you-in-your-sleep._ Stiles headed to his room and started his research on werewolf lore.

 

\--

 

Stiles always wakes up early, even if he only gets two hours of sleep. He’s always one to be awake early. Stiles jumps out of bed and heads out of his bedroom, almost forgetting that his door was closed; Stiles rubs his eyes as he walks down the hall and takes his right to the kitchen.

 

The sweet promise of coffee is almost a god send to Stiles. He starts his coffee maker and waits. Watching the winter air chill and create small crystals on his window. The clouds came over night and clouded Beacon Hills. It was beautiful.

 

Stiles suddenly feels like he’s being watched. Why was he being watched? Stiles turned around and there was Derek, just inches away from him. “Holy fucking Christ!” Stiles clenches the shirt at his chest as he heaves backwards into his sink counter. “Warning. Give a warning or something, Big guy. I don’t have werewolf hearing like you!”

 

Stranger raises a scowled brow. “I’ll give you a bell, I swear I will.” Stiles warns.  Stranger rolls his eyes and looks around the room.

 

Stiles watches him, Stranger is a lot bigger then Stiles remembers. Broodier too.

 

The coffee machine dings and Stiles pulls out two oversized mugs. Stiles pour coffee in each mug and adds milk and a tiny dash of Strawberry chocolate to his; he looked at Stranger and gestured for the milk, but shook his head.

 

Stiles shrugged. “Whatever dude,” Stiles took a sip and moaned at the liquid that now warmed his mouth, throat, and everything else. Stiles will always love his coffee, _Always._ Stranger took a sip of his and hummed. Just hummed. Stiles found it amusing.

 

“What’s your name, Stranger?” Stiles asks as he picks up a file from the small island in front of him.

 

“Derek.”

 

_Holy sweet mother of Gorge lucas. His voice._

 

Stiles thought his legs wanted to give out on him, he lick his lips before Taking another sip. “Thank you.” Derek said. “For yesterday.”

 

Stiles almost wanted to chug his coffee to keep his mouth busy. “No problem, Big guy. You needed help and well it’s my job to help.” Stiles sighed into his coffee mug. He glanced up at Derek, _bad idea, totally bad idea._

 

“You didn’t have to help me.” Derek said as he set his mug down. Stiles raised his mug to his lips “I told you, it was my job. Plus I hate to see someone hurt and just walk away. I can’t do that, like it’s physically impossible for me to do that.” Stiles took a generous sip.

 

Derek gave a huff and a half smirk. It was quiet, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

 

After Stiles’ chat with Derek, and after eating whatever Stiles had in the fridge Stiles headed to his bedroom then stopping half-way.

 

“The TV is up for the taking, I have work to do for awhile.” Stiles was staring holes onto his floor.

 

“Books?” Derek asked. Stiles looked up to meet his eyes. Stiles knows that his eyes are wide like a deer caught in headlights, what he doesn’t understand is why he isn’t answering.

 

“Uh, yeah. I, uh, all over the place. If you can find it, you can read it.” Stiles says with a shy smile. Derek nods and heads off into the living room. Stiles makes his escape to his bedroom.

 

\--

 

Stiles stretches out in his chair and moans, “Time for a break, Stilinski. You’ve been working yourself to the bone, my good man.” Stiles laughs to himself. He sends his report in to Deaton then heads out of his bedroom.

 

Stiles catches Derek reading on his window seat in the living room. The dim clouded light giving Derek, what should be illegal, lighted and stone cut features.

 

“Hey.” Stiles says. Derek glances up from the book he’s reading “Mythology,” Derek says, he looks back down at his book, “Everywhere I could have ended up in Beacon hills and I end up with someone who knows the supernatural.” It was almost a whisper.

 

“Man, I don’t just know it. I am it.” Stiles boosts. Derek glances back up at him and corks a brow. “C’mon, you can’t tell me you haven’t sensed it, a powerful werewolf like yourself, I thought I’d be doggy chow.” Stiles gives a half smile.

 

“A witch?” Derek guessed.

 

“Eh, close enough.” Stiles shrugs. “It’s my scent right? You can’t smell it because I have another werewolves scent on me.”

 

Derek simply nodded. “That’s why you didn’t panic when I wasn’t freaked by your fast healing skills. You figured that I knew.”

 

Derek snorted, “I didn’t figure. You gave it away when you told me not to growl at you.” Stiles made a _you-got-me-there_ face “Right, I probably should have thought that one through.” Stiles admitted.

 

Derek closed his book and sat up to face Stiles, who was still standing. Stiles tried to look everywhere but Derek, because that right now what cutting it close to dangerous.

 

“Hey, uh, do you have a place to stay or something?” Stiles asked, then realized that it sounded like he was kicking Derek out, which was the opposite of what he wanted to do. “Not that I don’t want you here or anything, I was actually going to offer you a place to stay. Uh, well that is if you wanted to even stay here, y’know you don’t have to-”

 

Stiles’ ramble was cut short due to Derek’s soft chuckle. Stiles could swear that it was the most gorgeous sound to ever come out of a man.

 

“I don’t have anywhere to stay.” Derek said with a small smile. Stiles glanced at Derek and smiled back, “Oh, well in that case, I’m Stiles and welcome home.” Stiles said happily.

 

\--

 

Stiles had no idea what he had done. A week earlier Stiles opened up his home to a werewolf, a pack-less werewolf. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, but Stiles really didn’t want to push Derek out into the cold with no place to be.

 

Stiles woke up late Thursday morning, a week later, he’d been on his feet all day yesterday painting and remodeling Derek’s new room. And of course Derek was there to help, he lifted all the heavy things.

 

Stiles grumbles as he tied to turn in his bed, but there’s a large mass that is keeping him from doing so. “Dereeeeeeekkk.” Stiles grumbled his name. Derek was currently a large dog or wolf, laying on top of Stiles.

 

Derek’s fur was a grey with white patches all over, Stiles like to brush his fingers through the coarse yet soft fur. Derek turned his face to Stiles, his wet nose ghosting under Stiles’ chin. Stiles laughed.

 

“You’re heavy. I know you have this weird pack thing about being in puppy piles or something. But you’re really, _really_ heavy.” Stiles stroked Derek’s snout, “Seriously, you’re nickname will forever be _Big guy._ ”

 

Derek snorts and jumps off of Stiles’ bed and heads out of the room. “I don’t even insult him.” Stiles rolls his eyes.

 

Derek, Stiles assumed, like to spend time in his fur. Derek would tell Stiles he didn’t want to tarnish whatever reputation Stiles had in his apartment complex. ( “Stiles, I’m serious. People talk and I don’t want people to harm you because of me. So I’ll stick to being in my fur.”) Stiles just thinks that Derek likes being in his fur.

 

“No. No! Derek! Give me the remote! I’m not going to feed you if you don’t r- Ah!” Stiles is jumping off the couch and running after Derek. “I want to watch supernatural!”

 

“You’re brain will rot, Stiles.” Derek chuckles as he headed down the hall to the round-about into the laundry room. “My brain is fine! I’ve solved more cases then Dean and Sam themselves!” Stiles shouts as he gains on Derek.

 

They end up in the kitchen, out of breath “You need a good run.” Derek smirked, literally unfazed.

 

Stiles was practically heaving “I . . . Don’t . . . Need . . . ” Stiles held his hand up and tried to catch his breath. “I don’t need physical education when I’m twenty-two years old thank you very much.” Stiles pants. Derek snorts and raises a curious brow.

 

“You’re really out of breath there, aren’t you?”

 

“Oh shut up. You’re the one with the werewolf abilities and whatever. I don’t have super speed and to catch you I’ve have to be like, I don’t know the flash.” Stiles flailed. “Do you need to be like takin’ out for walks or whatever? Is that why you’re stealing my remote, to amuse yourself?”

 

Derek huffed “I stole this,” Derek waved the remote in front of Stiles “Because its like your god.”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes “You’ve spent too much time in the woods, big guy. That remote is just a control for the television.”

 

“Oh?” Derek took the remote and gave it a tight squeeze Stiles winced at the small cracking noise he hears. “I’d beg to differ.”

 

“You’d beg for my chicken dumplings, you Pup.” Stiles says.

 

“Those dumplings changed my life.”

 

“Oh! The Pup made a funny!” Stiles teased. “Feed him dumplings and he’s gained some moral joking standards.” Stiles says. Derek rolled his eyes and flips the remote in his hands, “I think the remote wants to meet the next door neighbors’ German shepherd.”

 

“You wouldn’t.”

 

“I would, I’m not emotionally attached to this control.” Derek chuckled.

 

“I’m not _emotionally_ attached to it. I just like that fact that I don’t have to stand to turn on my TV. As active I am to keep the supernatural and the human’s safe and away from each other I think I deserve to have a _clicker._ ”

 

Derek rolled his eyes, completely fuckin’ amused. Stiles looked at him and frowned “I saved your werewolf ass!” Stiles pointed from across the island. “I would have healed.” Derek snorted.

 

Stiles made a quick run towards Derek, grabbing his shirt and pulling him. Stiles, being Stiles, fumbled on his feet and ended up pushing Derek and himself down to the ground with a loud ‘Uuf.’

 

Stiles grabbed the remote and sat up in victory. What he didn’t realize was that he was currently straddling Derek’s torso. Stiles let it sink in, Derek’s hands rested on his thighs and Stiles prayed to whatever god or gods would listen, _Please make sure he doesn’t move his hands,_ Stiles wished, prayed, hoped.

 

But when were the god on his side; Derek’s fingers gave a very tiny, almost non-noticeable squeeze and Stiles worried his bottom lip, “Uh, sorry. Though I do have my remote back, I’m sorry that the dominos have rendered you to the floor.” Stiles shrugged.

 

Stiles made to get up and he noticed a small tug at his thighs, Stiles felt a hitch in his breath. This was bad, this was so bad. Stiles knows Derek could smell _certain_ things. Stiles didn’t falter in his movement, he got up and cleared his throat. He reached his hand. Stiles could almost swear that he heard Derek whisper _damn shame_.  But that isn’t possible. No way.

 

Derek takes his hand “Thanks.” Derek says with a half smile.

 

\--

 

Stiles has spent three weeks with Derek. It’s like Derek’s imprinted or something and Stiles is waiting for the other shoe to drop. Stiles is waiting for Derek to just not be there anymore. All of Stiles mornings have been something to look forward to, hell the whole day is something to look forward too.

 

So when Stiles is working, his mind finds the dark truth that Stiles denies himself. Just because he believes that Derek will stay, he’ll stay.

 

_He won’t._

-           _“Okay. Let’s make a deal here. Let’s not be hasty.” Derek holds his arms out in an attempt to stop Stiles, who was inching forward. “Now, listen to me, Stiles-”_

 

_“Or what, Derek? You’ll try and stop me?” Stiles corks a brow, because he currently held a handful of flour, ready to be tossed on a very hot werewolf. “C’mon Derek. You’ve had your fun getting flour all over me. I think it’s time for a little pay back.” Stiles let a smile capture his lips._

_Derek raised a brow, “That was a flick. You flailed the rest.” Derek pointed out, slowly backing away from Stiles. “Derek. It’s still morning. I’m running on an hour of sleep. Let’s not test my accuracy.” Stiles said with a nod._

_Derek thought quick and lunged at Stiles grabbing him from his hips and throwing him over his shoulder. “WHOA!” Stiles flailed, spilling flour all over his wood floor. “No fair, you, you caveman!” Stiles laughed. Derek chuckled and carried Stiles to the bathroom._

_“Alright Kong, set me down. I can walk, let alone shower on my own.” Stiles laughed as Derek draped him off his shoulder. Stiles patted Derek’s chest and smiled, Derek’s hands didn’t leave Stiles’ hips._

_Stiles was in this deep. He was._

_“Stiles,” Derek said as he leaned forward. “Stiles,”_

_\--_

 

“Stiles!” Scott voice broke through Stiles’ thought. Stiles looks at his best friend, “Man, are you listening to me?” Stiles blinked a couple times and went back to fiddling with papers in Deaton’s office. “Uh, yeah Man. I am.”

 

“Didn’t look like it dude, you weren’t even answering me.” Scott huffed, “And you still helping that werewolf?”

 

Stiles head snaps up at his friend, Scott knew about Derek. Well, Scott knew Stiles help a werewolf. Not that said werewolf was staying with him. “Yeah, why?”

 

“You reek of it, Man.”

 

“He’s not an _it._ Scott. You’re a werewolf too.” Stiles snorts, because he wasn’t about to let his best friend get away with insulting his, uh, Derek, he wasn’t going to let him insult _Derek_.

 

\--

 

Stiles came home, he was cover in leaves and tiny branches. Stiles kicked off his shoes, because like hell is he getting his carpet dirty. Stiles shakes off his sweater and hangs it up, he’ll worry about it later.

 

Then Derek is standing in front of him. “ _Holy sweet mother of cake._ ” Stiles jumped within himself as he looked up at Derek. “I am buying you a bell tomorrow.”

 

Derek doesn’t say anything, which isn’t, well shouldn’t be strange. (Derek wasn’t the greeting type.) “Hey,” Stiles pokes his chest “You’re supposed to say ‘ _I’m not a cat, Stiles._ ’ Then I’m supposed to laugh and punch you in the arm.” Stiles pokes him again. Derek doesn’t budge, Stiles is slowly starting to panic.

 

Stiles stares up at Derek, his eyes are still a pale hazel, so he isn’t feral. So Derek didn’t wolf out, at least not in the house. Besides Derek and Scott, no other werewolf could get in, not without Stiles’ help.

 

“Derek. Derek what’s wrong?” Stiles asks, concern seeping into his words without him wanting it to. Derek then held out his arm, Stiles looked from his eyes down to Derek’s arm. “Oh god.” Stiles grabbed Derek’s arm and made his way to his kitchen. “What the hell did you do?” Stiles asked, not actually wanting an answer.

 

Stiles cleaned off most of the blood, he tried not to burn Derek’s cut with the hot water. Stiles would occasionally glance up at Derek, but his eyes were semi-closed watching Stiles clean the blood.

 

Stiles was speechless, for once. He was currently sitting in his dining room staring straight into _the_ most beautiful pale hazel eyes he’s seen since Dean Winchester’s amazing close up for that perfect tear before everything went to shit. Derek, Derek sat in front of him, his right arm in Stiles’ hand; his left ghosting his cheek.

 

Derek was leaning dangerously close to Stiles. Almost forgetting that he, himself had to tend to the werewolves’ wounds. He was mesmerized and didn’t realize he was leaning in closer to Derek.

 

Derek’s hand was a gentle firmness against his cheek. It was comfortable, and stable, more than Stiles has ever had in his life.

 

“Derek,” Stiles’ eyes flashed to Derek’s lips then back up to his eyes. “We, I can’t.” But Stiles knew he didn’t mean it. He at least tried to stop whatever it was that was going to happen. He can be given credit for trying, right?

 

Their noses brushed at the tip, Stiles could feel Derek’s warm whiskey coated breath on his lips. “I need to, uh, stitch you up.” Stiles eyes threatened to drift shut, he licked his lips absentmindedly.

 

Derek’s eyes searched Stiles’ face, his eyes not completely open but enough to send chills all across his skin when he looked into them. This was bad. Stiles knew this was really bad. All those failed attempts on Derek’s part, well they were only failed because Stiles was the one that made sure they were _failed._

 

And all because Stiles was scared Derek would leave. Then Stiles would be alone, again.

 

“Derek.” Stiles breathed. He wanted to say something else, but Derek’s lips were a force to be reckoned with. Stiles couldn’t possible compare Derek’s lips to anything he’s every felt before.

 

Because Derek’s lips were warm, wet, and almost wild; but calm and secure. It was comforting and chaste, Stiles found himself pushing into Derek’s lips. Wanting more.

 

But, Derek parted their lips and brushed his eyelashes and nose along Stiles’ face. While Stiles mirrored the motion “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you.” Stiles smiled, he hears Derek’s huff then opens his eyes slightly to see a soft smile play at Derek’s lips.

 

“You don’t know how lone I’ve _wanted_ you.”

 

Stiles laughs and nudges Derek’s stubbly cheek with his nose, pushing away so he can watch his eyes. Because Derek’s eyes were like Stiles’ coffee in the morning, _A God send._

Derek kept the soft smile on his lips, “Does this mean I can finally sleep in the same room without being in my fur?” Stiles let out a howl of laughter and looked down at Derek’s arm, healed and good as new.

 

“Yes.” Stiles looked up at Derek meeting his gaze. “This means you can sleep in my bedroom without being a huge dog.”


End file.
